Vagabond
by InfernalMutt
Summary: Lost caitiff, waning loyalties and one hell of a reputation. A sireless gangrel may never escape jyhad, does she even want to?
1. Prologue: Vagabond

Cait strolled slowly towards her target. The junkyard was stacked with vehicle body parts and other lots of jagged scrap. The stench of burning was still fresh in her nostrils after the 'Slasher of Santa Monica' had tried to incinerate her, a final attempt to keep her away after he had failed to bury her under tons of metal. Cait would have been pissed if nearly every other vampire she'd come across since her embrace hadn't treated her in a similar fashion.

"No! Stay away vampire! Stay the fuck back! I did nothing to you!" He spat. His blue eyes told a weary tale of abandonment and pain; Cait couldn't help but feel a twinge of kinship with the pathetic creature. Soldiering towards him, keeping her hands by her sides and her posture relaxed, she finally spoke.

"Why did you do it?"

The vampire's toned physique was tense and coiled; a cornered animal through and through. His feral expression revealed his desperation and showed that it wasn't a man who controlled this body; it was a monster. Cait's blank expression was unnerving to him to say the least. For the (un)life of him he couldn't discern what intentions lay underneath her pale visage. Still, as she was standing before him he could be certain of two possible outcomes: she would try to put him down or she wouldn't. But if she didn't, what would be his fate? Or if she did, could he defend himself? Would he be able or willing to hang on to his already pitiful strand of existence?

_Fuck it. Fuck them, fuck her and fuck this miserable life. _His lengthened canines clicked against his tongue as he grunted aggressively at her.

"Why should I tell you? I don't give a damn if you understand!" snapped the miserable caitiff.

If it were possible, she would have breathed the fire out of her lungs. The young Gangrel, patient though she may have been, had little tolerance for such an attitude towards just about the only vampire in the city extending a hand completely free of claws. She remained as she was, relaxed and passive; hoping that her peaceful body language would do some of the talking for her.

"Try. Make me understand."

Cait listened intently to the woeful tale that passed the broken vampire's pale lips. He spoke of murder and injustice. He told her of the family he once had and how they were snatched away from him. He told her of the monsters who were acquitted of their murders, left to wander the streets after stealing the lives of a mother and her children. Then, with a cruel and disturbing sense of glee, he told her about the satisfaction he received as he tore each one of them apart and licked their poisoned blood from his claws. The Beast was there all right, standing about two feet in front of her; this was going to be difficult.

"So you've had your revenge. No more mutilated bodies for the kine to find, right?" she reasoned, she knew she had to be careful. A single misunderstood gesture could result in an attack. Cait sympathized deeply with the unfortunate soul and bringing about his final death was something she really didn't want to do.

"I don't know. Butchering those bastards was the first time I felt anything since my family was torn from me, I'm sure there are others out there whose crimes have gone unpunished."

_Damn it, wrong answer you dumb shit. _Cait could feel her body stiffen. He was indeed making this hard for himself. _He wouldn't be saying that while staring Lacroix's gorilla in that ugly mug of his._

"Gangrel draw power from instinct, not the beast. If you let it take over again, the Sherriff'll be paying you a house call." She explained coldly, silently hoping that the caitiff had at least heard of the Princes' muscle.

"I can't turn my back on the evil in this world. I won't answer to anyone and you'll never take me alive, vampire! No one will ever take from me again-"

"What about your family?" Cait quickly cut his speech short as she could sense his growing agitation. His facial features were tugging into a fierce frown and his eyes were burning into a fiery yellow shade. Before he backed himself into an impossible corner, she decided to appeal to his human side one last time.

"What would they think of you now?" She continued, watching and waiting. Studying his form and recognising a slight shift of his body weight; she continued:

"Imagine if they could see you now; think they could still love a monster?" this proved to be the final blow in Cait's verbal attack. It may have been on the southern side of the belt, but it was necessary. She could see the pay off in the cainite's facial expression. His snarl and his once knotted brow had transformed into a shocked and sorrowful look.

"No, God no! No! It has to stop! I can't live like this…" the beast shrank back, taking its burning eyes with it and revealing a cooling blue shade once again. Quivering hands grabbed at tufts of red hair and the vampire stared into oblivion, no doubt imagining the faces of his wife and children. It had worked.

"You're right, oh God you're right! I'll never do it again!" he promised, slowly lowering himself to the ground and dropping to his knees; it was a depressing display.

Cait closed the gap between them completely, looking down with a great sympathy to the sireless kindred.

"I swear I'll never do it again! F-forgive me!" She placed a comforting yet cold hand on his jerking shoulder, "Forgive me…"


	2. Chapter 1: Reluctant

**_So this I suppose is the actual beginning to my story. This is after the events of the game and it's focusing on the played character (or more specifically, mine :3)_**

**_Thankyou Rednightmare for your lovely review! I am truley flattered 3_**

**_Also the serial killer will be in upcoming chapters so bare with me. I do not own Vampire and I will never write dialogue as engaging as the people who do :(_**

**_Enjoy!_**

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1

Stuttering streetlamps gingerly illuminated the streets below them with a sickly yellow light. Simultaneously they banished the stars and coated the streets of L.A in a poor form of guidance through the darkness of the night. Underneath the dull haze shuffled the kine, unaware of the political upheaval that had violently taken place a few months ago. From suited up office drones to raggedly dressed homeless bums, all were blissfully naive to the ravenous bloodshed of Jyhad. _How pleasant for them..._

Sitting in the corner of her pathetic squat, elbows bent and resting on knees, Cait could not put this outing off any longer. She stared at the dipping ceiling of the basement, stained with leaking water over years of neglect. Wallpaper was absent save for a few curling remnants clinging to the memory of the original room. She hadn't resided in this dive for long but she could have gotten used to it with time. She couldn't help but smile and wonder, how far had her standards plummeted after the embrace? Mustering badly needed willpower, the Gangrel yanked herself to her feet and exited the condemned building. She walked slowly but with purpose. The numerous holes in her fading jeans and the worn out fabric of her oversized sweater turned no heads on these mean streets. She fitted in with the drifters, the crazies and the down-on-their luck, much to her satisfaction.

Her deliberately relaxed pace allowed her to peer from underneath her hood at the high rise buildings around her. All of them left a chalky, bitter taste in her mouth that was depressingly familiar to her. Golden eyes scanned the dirty green sign that announced the Hallowbrook Hotel. Once a festering nest of shovel heads, the hotel had been cleared of the swarm of Sabbat, by the young Gangrel's own clawed hands. She cut through an alleyway, passing trudging parker enclosed unfortunates who wore their offensive odours like a strong aura. Cait's sensitive nose winced at the thought of allowing the stench to come close to her senses, but she had grown used to hiding her disgust as she passed them by. Still, no smell had come close to matching the blood drenched lair of that damned Tzimisce, bastard leader of the now absent Sabbat. Cait couldn't help but feel weak when she remembered the battle that took place amongst pools of bloated, rotting flesh.

Leaving the confined space of the ally, Cait looked up again to meet the purple haze of the Tremere chantry. Inside resided a powerful warlock who had once helped the young neonate in her kindred infancy. However, since she had chosen against the Camarilla, the vampire felt decidedly less than welcome in Maximillian Strauss' presence. Flickering light of a streetlamp pulled the Gangrel out of her thoughts and she continued on to the sect that she had, maybe too hastily, pledged her allegiance to.

"Wolfbait! 'Bout time you dragged your sorry ass corpse in here, finally found time between chasin' your tail?"

Still pushing the door open enough for her to enter, Cait rolled her eyes acknowledged the aggressive insults thrown at her from a self appointed den mother.

"Hi Damsel. You found a way to bottle that charm of yours yet?" she replied playfully. Despite the venomous banter that seemed to take place every time she walked in, the two seemed to have something of an understanding between them.

The Last Round was an old and dingy hangout for the downtown Anarchs. The wooden seats of the booths had been there for what must have been decades. Dim lights accentuated rising cigarette smoke and cast threatening shadows on the kindred gathered there. Cait walked quickly passed Damsel and the group of young vampires she was addressing, to where the wood panelled walls closed into a flight of creaking stairs.

"He ain't here yet. Take a load off though, said he'd be back in a coupl'a minutes." Damsel explained, stopping Cait in her tracks. She had always approached the scruffy Gangrel with caution. Shortly after her embrace she had become the do-girl of the prissy asshole who had just murdered her sire, that hadn't sit well with the passionate red head and it still didn't. But though she was still a kid, she had dealt massive blows to the Kuei Jin, the Camarilla and the Sabbat. Reason enough perhaps to place her complete trust in her, however she still retained some sort of doubt and when playing Jyhad, doubt could be a powerful thing.

Cait grabbed a chair and spun it around, dropping herself onto the seat and folding her arms around the back of it. She set her eyes on one of the reasons she disliked visiting The Last Round, the group of recently embraced Anarchs.

"Alright now as I was sayin'. Just because we're against the cam don't mean you have to slaughter every nancy bastard you lay your eyes on. Don't misunderstand; we are at war in every sense of the fucking word. But war ain't won with fists, pipe wrenches or guns and it certainly ain't won by any fledge trying to prove how bad ass they think they are."

_Wise words Damsel, wise words._

"You can pass a cam on the street, hell you can even have a conversation with 'em if you can get any sense outta the smug pricks. Just don't forget who the enemy are and don't do shit until we, that is either myself, Skelter or Nines, says so! Got it?"

Shouts of approval came from the influential rabble. Cait counted five of them, all new blood. Since the Camarilla where still sifting through the paper work of appointing a new Prince, siring was more commonplace as they just didn't have the manpower to keep an eye on it. The Anarchs had taken full advantage of this absence of discipline and embraced multiple troops to their cause. The slouching Gangrel supposed that if she were still under the command of the late Sebastian Lacroix, she would have been the one he despatched to take care of the problem. _What a depressing thought…_

"Alright you've all got lodgin's right? So get back to 'em, feed if you haven't and make sure you're back here by seven tomorrow. We still got a fuckton of shit to discuss." Damsel finished in her "eloquent" way.

Cait eyed the eager bunch with an unpleasant look on her face. They were all so full of energy, so ready to do their commanders proud. She watched them leave with some form of relief. Truthfully, the fledglings didn't seem like an unlikable sort and some of them were pretty attractive. The problem was that each one of them reminded Cait of herself in her days of servitude; it made her sick. She dismissed these depressive thoughts as one of the youngsters seemed to be approaching her. The Gangrel looked him up and down; he had a punk rock look about him and multiple piercings which eclipsed Cait's one nose ring.

"Uh, are you the vampire who took down the Prince?" He asked, pale blue eyes staring nervously down at the seemingly unimpressive creature before him.

Cait pushed her shoulder length hair back between her fingers, looking back at the young kindred and becoming envious of his two silver eyebrow studs.

"No," she answered calmly, "Lacroix blew himself up."

The curious cainite fiddled with his leather jacket, unsure exactly how to reply but he found himself morbidly pleased with her answer.

"I can't count the number of times my head's been on a chopping block." She continued, startling the boy somewhat, "I've had my ass saved by the kindred of this city more than I care to say. It's never about the individual kid; everybody has a part to play." _Damn, when did I start giving _**sage**_ advice?_

Before the scrawny vampire could ask another question, Cait stood up, chair grinding across the floor as she pushed it away from her. She focused towards the door and when he followed her gaze it was clear why. The leader of the Downtown Anarchs walked through the door, Nines Rodriquez, though he would claim until blue in the face that the term 'Leader' had never applied to him. He was closely followed by two unfamiliar vampires; it seemed that the Anarchs had increased their ranks more than Cait first thought. Damsel spoke first:

"Hey Nines, good job you're back, I got-"

"Not. Now." The stern Brujah replied, baring his fangs as he practically stomped through the bar. Cait had seen Nines this pissed off before, when once upon a time she had suggested that the Anarchs simply meet with the Camarilla…

"Pssh, fine but don't expect me to entertain your new guest." Cait stepped forward on cue, slightly regretting she had dragged herself here. Nines turned to her, his contorted features relaxing a little when he recognised what needed his attention. He raised his head to the stairs and marched towards them. "Come on up."


	3. Chapter 2: Errand Girl

**_Gawd another chapter. I've been having serious writers block lately but it seems to have fucked off finally..._**

**_Enjoy the awkwardness guys, honestly though Cait's not always this pathetic :P  
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**_Thank you Rednightmare and Nofacesonlymasks for your lovely reviews :D  
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2

Cait cracked her knuckles anxiously. The socially awkward Gangrel had not wanted to return to the dingy hang out, even she wasn't exactly sure why. She had also found herself at the receiving end of a frosty welcome from the infamous Brujah before her, whose mood was decreasing further during their awkward silence. Cait had always felt intimidated by Nines Rodriguez. He had saved her neck twice and all she had done in return was cause trouble for him. She had helped the Prince frame him for the murder of the Malkavian primogen, and practically fed him to a monstrous werewolf in Griffith Park. Because of this, Cait felt indebted to him. Realising that she was to be the one to break the silence, the vampire took a nervous step forward.

"I found the stray. He was hiding out in Santa Monica, the junkyard."

Nines glared. His biceps were tense and his fists tightly clenched. His anger hadn't decreased it seemed, though Cait had tried to distract him from it.

"He was alone, looks like he went on a one man binge and disappeared before he was found. There were no witnesses and the police are looking for some other guy."

Nines spoke quickly, "Good. I'd be pleased with ya kid but I just got some bad news about two of our new blood."

Cait instinctively knew what dance was now waiting for her. Detective work, reporting back and errand after damn errand and all because she couldn't form one simple word in her useless mouth; no. Still, she found some comfort in the fact that it wasn't her Rodriquez was angry with.

"Not sure who did it but someone tore 'em up good. Sent us a little snuff film catchin' the whole damn thing, tortured the poor bastards for a half hour."

He clasped his hand around his clenched fist and let his forehead rest against it. Then Cait jumped as he brought both hands down and smacked the table he was sitting at. The thoroughly intimidated Gangrel was afraid to ask the next obvious question, but she couldn't stop herself.

"So, I'm guessing you can't see the bastard's face on the film?"

_Really should have kept quiet…_

Nines stood up and stepped away from the cracked and splintered lot of wood.

"If we could, I wouldn't be here wasting time with you, would I?"

If that was an insult, Cait didn't take it as such. It would have aggravated him further and she wanted to make a quick exit. She scratched behind her ear and glanced at the stairs behind her.

"You want me to find him right?"

Nines shoved a flimsy chair away from him.

"Don't put words in my mouth kid. I got a good snoop on that job already, I'm just pissed we let it happen in the first place. No I got something else that needs doin'."

_I'm so not going to like this one…_

"We just got wind of a meeting taking place in a few days. Funny thing is, nobody invited us and they've been trying their damn hardest to keep this info tight. Now, could just be the cam catfightin' over who gets what of Lacroix's, but I want eyes and ears in that meeting. You've been in the Nocturne before right?"

An angrily confused look appeared on the Gangrel's face. She didn't like this one at all.

"What the hell? Sneaking around is Nos work! Why are you asking me?" She had suddenly found her "no" voice.

Nine's met her glare. His was face portraying some sort of confusion as well; finally showing something that didn't scream "angry badass, don't mess with me". He took a step towards her.

"A little quick to defend aren't ya? At the moment, most of the Nos are busy licking the cam's wounds. Sneaky bastards know what I know, which is that the cam will hit back and soon. So while they're making themselves appear once again indispensable, I have to work with what I got."

Cait shrank back a little.

"You don't have to sneak into the theatre, I'm sure you got other ways of getting it done thanks to your time in the warrens. You may not realise this but you're on better speaking terms with the rat nest than I am kid."

She scratched her head, pondering how many inches she'd just lost in height. Rodriguez continued.

"Besides, I'm not going make you do it. You know how things work around here."

_Is he trying to make me feel guilty?_

"I wouldn't have asked but I need a favour right now. So are you in or out?"

_The final nail in the damn coffin. _

That was all Nines needed to do, mention the word "favour" to the young Gangrel and she would comply. As far as she was concerned, it was the only way to pay back her debt. She was almost convinced Nines knew the score too. Now she felt dumb for reacting badly to the request in the first place. She cursed herself over and over in her head and swore she'd keep her "no" voice in check for when it was actually needed.

"Sure, I'll do it." She subtly gritted her teeth. "So what time is this supposed to happen?"

_I surrender, again._

"Thanks kid. It starts at nine on the back of the seven thirty show. 'Far as we can tell, it should only be about five or six kindred tops. We don't know anything about it except that we weren't invited." Nines told her, and Cait could have sworn blind that something of a triumphant smile lay behind his thankful eyes.

"If they tried to hide it from you, why would they hold it right under your nose? Did they really think nobody would notice?" If there was something Cait had learned under her embrace, it was to question everything. She had been set up by others of her kind so many times that she automatically assumed to be wandering into a trap every time she was sent on a mission.

"Well we usually don't give a shit every time a bunch of suits go the theatre. It's not totally uncommon for kindred to see a show, the Toreador eat that shit up like AB negative. The only reason we know they're having a meeting at all is because they ghouled a security guard there; apparently he didn't understand the words, "keep your god damn mouth shut". Vic overheard the dumb bastard in the Confession."

Vic, that was an unfamiliar name; one of the many new recruits no doubt. Cait took the information in and came to a simple conclusion: this was the most obvious set up since Ming Xiao spoke the words "pardon me" while posing as Nines. During the incident that factored heavily in the Gangrel's decision to side with the Anarchs, Cait had no knowledge of shape shifters or in fact the Kuei Jin themselves. She often wondered that if she had, would she have uncovered the frame much sooner? The idea that the Brujah rebel before could ever be soft spoken was ludicrous, which she had thought at the time, but the deceptive Kuei Jin had reproduced him so damn convincingly on the outside. Cait fell for it hook, line and sinker, just as she was supposed to.

Now Cait was almost certain it would never happen again. She believed she knew Nines well enough to recognise a phoney if she met one. Nines was not well spoken, only killed strategically and definitely didn't smell like Chinese incense. He was also no fool, and if Cait could figure out this meeting business was some sort of trap then so could he. Either he was testing her, or he believed that she should be smart enough to know it wasn't just "accidently" leaked to them.

"Alright." she said, eager to shake the Anarch's presence, "I'll need to go back to Santa Monica then. Can you hook me up with a ride?" She turned and took a few steps towards the stairs behind her.

Nines walked towards her, headed for the ground floor as well it seemed. She took the cue and descended.

"I'm headed there later tonight, after I answer a few house calls. Stick around for an hour and I'll drive you there."

Cait stood aside at the bottom of the stairs and let him stride past her.

"Damsel, no calls. Anybody wants me I'm dead til' tomorrow."

Damsel, now sitting near the front door with her feet resting on a table, gave a quick nod as Nines left the Last Round. Cait watched him in silence, her anxiety growing as she was now stuck in a place she didn't like, waiting for a vampire she didn't want to spend any more time with that night. She sat in a booth at the opposite end of the bar to Damsel and rubbed her forehead. Normally, the Gangrel was a confident creature. Away from the Politics, the Jyhad and the Sects she walked the night with her head high. Alone she was happy, stalking through the night with a morbid appreciation of kindred (un)life and socialising only when she fed on some hapless human. Here however, in the presence of her chosen Sect she felt nothing more than a puppet. The kindred here treated her as an equal, but each reminded her of the meaningless soldier she once was.

Shortly after her forced embrace, Cait had warmed to Nines quickly. He spoke out for her when she was hauled into trial and saved her once more when "somebody" tipped off a pack of Sabbat as to her whereabouts. She was well aware that if it weren't for him, she wouldn't exist; as Damsel would often remind her. He was inherently likeable, though his aggressive nature was a little threatening and Cait found herself in want of his approvable. Maybe that was partly why she didn't enjoy returning to him after a job was done, maybe she feared his judgement more than she would ever admit.

She glanced at a grimy clock hanging lopsidedly against the wall. It was five minutes since Nines had left.

_This is going to be a fucking long hour…_


End file.
